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My fingers are firmly pressing the black, smooth keys that have been used by thousands of people since this keyboard was first plugged in to this computer. Countless emails have been sent. To whom? About what? perhaps some of the messages were expressions of sincere condolences at the loss of a loved one. Maybe another was an intense, dramatic story being told to a friend in order to catch up with another. Many of them have been sent to teachers, advisors, and the occasional dean. This keyboard has about as unique a story as each of the people who hammered away at it.

I think a lot about the micro-dramas that each person goes through each day. These emotionally charged plot lines are all each of us have, and what we call our lives. Subjectively some might be better than others, or at least more entertaining. But can these dramas be weighed objectively? Of course they can, that just depends on which lens you look through. Surely one can understand that I am worth less to society than a…